


Breaking in the Night

by NotReallyHere (Actuallysortahere)



Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: Arm Wrestling, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/F, Flirting, Fluff, Gambling of some variety, I guess Ardberts' technically always there, If I can stop Susanos giant sword I can stop a normal guys arm, It's already longer than I expected, Maybe some smut if it keeps going as planned, One-Sided competitions, Patch 5.0: Shadowbringers Spoilers, Romance, Self-Reflection, Some self-gratification, a touch of angst, not so secret secrets, secrets out
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-22
Updated: 2019-08-18
Packaged: 2020-07-10 12:27:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,892
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19905709
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Actuallysortahere/pseuds/NotReallyHere
Summary: The moon rises over a now free Norvrandt. The eternal light is banished and the people celebrate, and though the Warrior of light has much on her mind, it's hard to ignore the celebrations.Pretty Major Spoiler alert, so be warned I guess.





	1. Chapter 1

The Crystarium was abuzz with activity and had been for some hours now. The cheerful cries and joyous praise echoing into the darkness as folks from all over Norvrandt celebrated the true return of the night sky. Some folks raised their glasses in toast to those who had brought about its return, others told impassioned stories of their encounters with the Warriors of Darkness, appearing as if out of nowhere to ward off wild beasts, slay ravenous Sin Eaters or simply help them find their way in the world. Minstrels sung their ballads, dancers performed for the gathered crowds and no small amount of alcohol was consumed.  
For tonight was a momentous occasion. A turning point in this world. The everlasting light was banished, and the many communities had come together to break in this, the first full night for all of Norvrandt. To commemorate the Crystarium Guard for all their sacrifice defending the land, The Scions for all they had done for this world, the Crystal Exarch for ushering an end to the era of light, and of course, the Warrior of Darkness herself. Any who knew Harkas would be unsurprised to find her in the thick of it, tankard in hand, enjoying the glee on the face of each and every adoring citizen.  
  
But amongst the crowds, there was no Warrior of Darkness, though none seemed concerned. Most merely assumed her to be elsewhere in the party. In fact, she was some distance away, alone in a watch tower on the outskirts of the town. There she sat, her axe and bag lying several fulms behind her, feet hanging off the edge high above the ground, staring out over Lakeland in all its now shadowy beauty. Trees of Ivory with luminescent violet leaves, the glistening lake where Bismarck slept reflecting the twinkling stars above. The hustle and bustle of the festivities were came hushed behind her like the wash of waves on the beach, bathed in the orange glow of now much needed lamps and fires, and as another cheer erupted from the crowd. A sign of a job well done, she thought with a contented sigh, a lazy grin on her face as she swirled her tankard of mead.  
The climax of their adventure through the first had given her much to think about, not just about the world, but about her very nature. Of what Emet-Selch and the memory-born Hythlodaeus had said to her. Of Ardbert and their mysterious connection, and what else was to come from the lone remaining Ascian, Elidibus, all of which drew her mind away from simply enjoying the celebrations, as much as she’d liked to. And so she had slunk away to try and find some peace to collect her thoughts.  
Or, had tried to, at least.  
  
“So this is where you’ve gotten to, my little sapling!” Came the ever familiar chirp as a wisp of light dancing in the dark, growing until it burst, revealing the amber-leaf covered pixie. “They’re all back there havin’ fun, dancing through the night because of your accomplishments, and where do I find you but out here, on your own in the dark!” Hovering in place, the fey planted both fists against her hips, before leaning forward and wagging a finger at the Warrior. “And you’ve not even gotten your lovely branch a drink, either! Of all the saplings I could’ve chosen, this is what I end up with!” the pixie gave a pout, before eyeing the Roegadyn hopefully, who responded with a shrug and a guilty smile, before reaching back and dragging a small, brown leather pack towards her.  
“My apologies, Feo Ul, o’ loveliest of branches” Harkas spoke, playing along with the fey queens ploy as she rattled latches open and rummaged through her possessions, eventually pulling out a small, Lalafellin sized cup. “Allow me to fix this most grievous of disrespects.” She stifled a chuckle, before pouring a small amount from her own tankard into the small cup and offering it to the fey.  
“Well, at least you are aware of your misdeeds and are willing to make amends.” The pixie said with a smile. Even though the cup was made for a Lalafell, it was still the size of Feo Ul’s head and required both of her hands to hold, and as she bore the full weight, she sank slightly, before fluttering up again, hovering over to seat themself on Harkas’ shoulder. “Now then, what’re you doing out here by yourself, then? There’s a party over there just for you Y’know!” The pixie grunted quietly as she lifted the and took a sip. After smacking her lips once or twice, the pixie peered into the amber liquid. “So this is what you mortals drink for fun, hm?.” Before taking another sip.  
“It’s not the most special stuff, but it’s nice enough.” Harkas nodded, craning her neck to see her companion. “But I guess I’ve just got a lot on my mind, is all.” The warrior took a swig from her tankard and went back to staring out at the landscape. “A lot of things happened and I’m just taking a while to come to terms with some of it. Hasn’t left me in the celebrating mood much, is all.” Harkas spoke forlornly, prompting the pixie to rest the cup upon her thighs, raising a hand to pat the side of the Roegadyns head.  
“My poor little sapling. Never forget that your adoring branch is ever by your side should you need me.”  
“I appreciate that, but I think this is something I have to figure out myself.” Harkas gave an appreciative smile, before holding her tankard up next to the pixie. “Still, I wouldn’t have gotten here without your help, so here’s to the fairest of pixies, King of the Fey and most brilliant of branches.”. Feo Ul let out a small giggle, before lifting her cup.  
“What a sapling I’ve chosen, indeed.” she chattered, as metal tankard met ceramic cup, and both took a long drink, punctuated with a satisfied gasp.  
  
“Now that your journey here is at an end, you could always shed your mortality and take up the mantle of King if you so wished.” The pixie chuckled. “Leave all your troubles behind and stay with me forever?”  
“Every opportunity, huh?” Harkas laughed, placing her Tankard down beside her. “Who knows, maybe one day I’ll take you up on that offer. But for now, we’ve got to find a way for everyone to get back home to the source. We’ve a war to fight, at _least_ one more Ascian to fell and gods knows what else is in store.”  
“Already planning your next venture so soon, after almost having that beautiful soul of your shattered. Not a thought for yourself.” The fey sounded disappointed until Harkas shook her head.  
“I’ve plenty of thoughts for myself. I wouldn’t be doing all this if I didn’t want to, after all.” She said, before rummaging through a pocket on her coat and producing a small, blue crystal with what appeared to be an engraving of a pair of spectacles. “Besides, I’ve got promises I need to keep, too. Can’t let them down now, can I?”. Feo Ul eyed the crystal curiously.  
“How curious. I can see the tattered remnants of a soul within that crystal. It almost feels like yours.” Harkas gave a wry smile, before pulling out another crystal, this one red and emblazoned with an axe head. “This one is mine.” She closed her fist around it, before stuffing it back into her pocket. “This one belonged to my sister. She promised to keep fighting when the man she loved gave his life to protect her, and I made that same promise when I came to terms with her passing.” Harkas’ grin faded briefly as she thought back, but she soon shook her head. “Besides, I have people I need to protect too.”  
“Ah yes, that mystel sorceress. Y’shtola, I believe?” Harkas turned her full attention to the smirking pixie.  
“Well, yes. Her, the twins, my companions back in the source…”  
“Don’t play me for a fool, little sapling” the pixie chirped happily. “I know how your heart flutters when you see her, I’ve seen your precious, tender moments you share when the two of you are alone.” Harkas’ cheeks turned flush as the fey teased her.  
“Y-you saw all that?” the warrior stammered, pulling away as best she could causing the pixie to wobble from her perch, her wings fluttering to life as she struggled to adjust the cup.  
“I saw everything, my adorable little sapling!” Feo Ul chanted with glee. “How it warms my heart to see my chosen find one to share her love! I only hope she doesn’t steal you away from me completely, for what is a branch with no sapling to grow from?” The pixie took one final, large drink from her cup before offering it back to the warrior, who was staring incredulously at the fey.  
“I really should’ve known.” Harkas sighed in defeat, taking the cup and placing it beside her tankard. “Just please, don’t go around telling everyone. I don’t want it to become common knowledge. No doubt most of the Scions have their suspicions, if they don’t know outright, that is.”  
“Of course, of course. What fun is there in a secret if everyone knows?”  
“Well, that’s one way to look at it, I guess.” Harkas grumbled, much to Feo Ul’s entertainment.  
  
Minutes turned to an hour as Branch and Sapling simply enjoyed each other’s company for the first time since their pact was made, stories of long ago were shared, much to Feo Ul’s joy. Tales of Knights and Dragons, of fallen gods, lost friends and scars. Pranks of the past, of the first Titania and mischief yet to be made. It could’ve gone all night, had the sound of boot on metal not caught the Pixies’ ear. Quickly discerning that her chosen hadn’t noticed for herself, the fey used a particularly energetic giggle as cover to take a glance, smiling to herself as she realised who was approaching.  
“All these grand adventures you’ve had, my strong little sapling! So many trials! Surely any who you would choose to be your muse must be amazing beyond measure!” Her tone was a teasing one, poking just where she knew Harkas would struggle to deflect.  
“Back to this, are we?” The warrior took it cheerfully, giving a chuckle before nodding. “That’s one way to describe her, for sure, though. She’s every bit as determined as I am, she just puts it to better use than I do. History, arcane studies, all sorts of stuff. She’s one of the few I know who can rival Urianger in that regard.” Harkas’ face dropped briefly as she sighed, before her smile returned as the footfalls grew ever closer. “Couple that with both black and white magics and a face that makes my heart skip and you have someone who could take their choice of anyone in the world. In comparison, my biggest strength is a thick skull” punctuating her point by rapping her knuckled against her head “And an outright refusal to stop even when my soul is apparently tearing itself apart.” As the warrior continued on, the footsteps stopped and Feo Uls plan came to fruition. “Why I won her affection I may never know, but as long as I have it I don’t think there’s anything that can stop me. Can’t disappoint her now, can I?” The warrior briefly eyed her now empty tankard before turning to the Pixie, quickly noticing the smug, satisfied smirk Feo Ul now bore.  
  
“So this is where you’ve secluded yourself. To talk romance with the king of fey, no less?” Came a familiar voice, causing Harkas to jerk bolt upright. Quickly giving the fey a glare, Harkas twisted her body round to see her visitor. There, several fulms back, garbed in her grey, fur lined robes, stood Y’shtola, her hair dancing gently in a soft breeze. In each hand she held a wooden bowl, each giving of a faint wisp of steam from whatever they contained. Unable to hold it any longer, Feo Ul burst into laughter, drawing the gaze of both Scions, proclaiming her achievement, that she had tricked the Warrior of Darkness herself, for all to hear. And with a flutter of her wings, she flew a half-loop, fading away into a glimmer of light.  
“Damned fey…” Harkas muttered, drawing back the archons’ attention. “How much did you hear?”  
“Everything since your companion asked you of me.” The Miqo’te shrugged. “No doubt I only heard aught that she had intended me to. Naught I wasn’t already privy to, however, save for your dreadfully low self-regard.” As she moved to join Harkas, the warrior tried to hide her embarrassment.  
“I’m know there’s more to it, but you can’t deny that I’m not the kind of person that others would assume you’re interest in.” As the archon drew closer, Harkas caught a glimpse of something. For the briefest of moments, Y’shtola appeared deeply troubled, but in the blink of an eye she hid it once more, doing her best to maintain her stoic look.  
“A strong, brave warrior who regularly places the needs of others over her own?” The archon spoke bluntly. “Who regularly throws herself before countless horrors to save those who cannot fight back? Who risks life, limb and now soul to bring back the stars for all to see?” Again, Harkas could swear she heard just a hint of _something_ behind the Archons words. Concern? Worry? Something was weighing heavy on Y’shtolas mind as she reached the Roegadyns side, lowering herself down, placing one of the bowls on the deck of the tower and taking a spoon with her now free hand. “There are many reasons one would be drawn to you, myself included. That thick skull of yours serves only to block reason, it seems.” Taking a spoonful of what Harkas could now see was a fragrant lamb stew, the Archon lifted it to the warriors lips. “Now, open up.”  
“You really don’t need to feed me.” Harkas chuckled, the corner of her mouth curling to a half-smile. “I’ve had plenty of time to res-” her words were immediately cut off with a sharp glare from her partner, who’s hands had begun to tremble. “Y’shtola, are you…What’s wrong?” Her smile had all but faded as she quickly moved a hand to steady the archons, and even with a supportive grasp, Harkas could feel her shaking.  
  
Before her, the warrior could see her partners stern visage crumble. Her face dropped, her ears drooped and guilt flooded her features. There was a soft splatter as the spoon fell from her fingers, stew strewn over the leg of her robe, the bowl left to rest in her lap as the Miqo’te threw both arms around the warriors larger body, pulling her in close and burying her face in her flank. Caught off guard, there was little Harkas could do other than return the gesture, pulling the Archon deeper into the embrace.  
“I almost lost you today.” Y’shtola spoke, twisting her head to uncover her mouth. Her voice was weak and shaky in contrast to her earlier sternness as she nestled herself further into the warriors side. “I could do _naught_ but stand and watch as your very aether twisted and warped into something vile. I was utterly powerless to even stall Emet-Selch.” As one of the miqo’tes’ slender hands tightened their grip on Harkas’ coat, her other arm lifted. “And as you wracked and convulsed as the change began to take you, I could do **_naught_** to give you succor.” To emphasize her words, a balled fist moved to gently strike the warriors chest, halting a few ilms before contact and turning into a soft caress. “Had it not been for a miracle that you gave only the vaguest details of, you’d have been but another Lightwarden, cursed for all time.” She slowly pulled her face from the Roegadyns side and took a steadying breath. “We all bear the burden of two worlds on our shoulders, I claim that you need not do it alone. Yet the worst burdens are yours alone. I just wish I could do more to care for you in those times, so please…” The archon lifted her head, looking at the warrior with pleading eyes. “Grant me this small benevolence.”  
  
Looking down at her partner, Harkas could feel the guilt welling up inside, but swallowing it down she released the archon with one arm, bringing it to her face and gently stroking her cheek, before planting a small kiss on her forehead. As Y’shtola bore a faint smile, Harkas reached down, taking the spoon just below the head and offering it back to the archon.  
“Just don’t let yours go cold, okay?” Harkas gave the most reassuring smile she could as Y’shtola took the handle of the spoon that had been proffered to her, taking up another load of stew. “Or do I have to look after you, too?” She chuckled, met with another stern, yet somehow much softer, glare. The warrior barely managed a playful shrug before she found a spoon ilms away from her lips, waiting intently, which she quickly accepted, opening wide and leaning forward, meeting the now advancing food halfway. As it vanished behind ruby lips, Harkas’ cheeks began to flush, a mix of embarrassment and the full flavour of her meal hitting her. She’d always had a penchant for stew, it’s simple recipe making for ideal camp food, but nothing any of the Warriors of Light ever made could compare to this. She’d barely had time to savour the mouthful before another was awaiting her. Swallowing, she turned to Y’shtola, beaming down at her.  
“This is damn good. Have you tried it?” The spoon dropped slightly as the Archon glanced at the second bowl rest next to her.  
“I’ve not, no. As you might have guessed, my priorities lay with ensuring your care, not mine own. Though I’ll allow that the fragrance indeed proved tempting as I made my way here. It’s one of the Wandering Stairs specials, if I recall, made especially for those who returned the stars to the skies.”  
“Try a bit, then.” Harkas spoke, gesturing to the already full spoon.  
“I shall, but only once you’ve had your fill.”  
“Now, that won’t do. Can’t go and just enjoy all this myself, can I?” Harkas taunted, before leaning in and biting down gently on the spoon. At the same time, the arm that had been holding the archon crept down, finding the rim of the other bowl and lifting it over the miqo’tes’ lap, her other hand taking the spoon.  
  
Quickly swallowing her mouthful, she smiled. “Now, your turn.” Her hands worked surprisingly deftly, quickly scooping a generous helping of stew and winding up towards the archons face. “Open up, was it?” The warrior was clearly enjoying the moment and despite the dark cloud that hung over them not two minutes ago, Y’shtola found herself smirking.  
“I’m hardly in a position to refuse, am I?” There was a playful tone in Y’shtola’s voice now as her ruby lips parted, teasingly slow, until they allowed the offering to pass, sealing behind. As the spoon slid back out, she let out an appreciative groan, much to Harkas’ delight, who was now basking in the archons warm expression.  
“So?” The warrior questioned. “It’s good, right?”. There was a few seconds of silence as the miqo’te savoured the stew before it was gone.  
“As with seemingly all matters of culinary flavour, you’re correct. The spice blend Glynard chose brings about a fine meal.” Y’shtola nodded, before taking her turn to offer food to her partner.  
“I go to a lot of places, I try a lot of food. From slum slop in Limsa Lominsa to highborn delicacies in Ishgard.” There was a slight giggle from the Roegadyn as she took her next mouthful, already returning spoon to stew.  
“A Gourmand in the making, I’m sure.” The half-jest forced Harkas to stifle a laugh, exhaling through her nose before gulping.  
“Nothing quite so grand. I just end up in a lot of settlements, each with their own take on common foods. Besides, with what I do, I need a lot of energy. Lots of battles to fight, lots of roads to walk.” She stated matter-of-factly, with just a hint of pride.  
“T’is the life we’ve chosen.” The archon nodded sagely “We can but take solace in the comforts we find along the way, be it food or friends.” Her wise words concluded, the archon indulged in another waiting stew offering.  
“And if you’re really lucky, you might find someone to share your heart with.” While not the words of a poet or a wordsmith, the warriors words still brought colour to Y’shtola’s cheeks, forcing her to swallow her food and glance up at her companion, who was slowly doing likewise, and together, they shared a moment, just staring into each others eyes before moving in for a fleeting kiss.  
“Warrior of both Light _and_ Darkness, bane of Ascians and now an effusive romantic. I doubt this is what Y’Mhitra expected when she bid me find someone.” Y’shtola mused out loud, and she quickly glanced at Harkas, who sat staring at the rising moon, either wasn’t responding or, preferably, hadn’t heard. Turning back to look out over Lakeland, the archon nestled herself into the warriors side, resting her head against the side of her chest. In response, she felt the large arm pull her in close.  
“Never thought I’d be responsible for the night sky, of all things.” Her voice belied her wonderment as she beheld the pale orb that hung above the land. “Or that it could be stolen in the first place.”  
“The future may oft hides fates beyond our wildest imaginations.” The miqo’te spoke, moving an arm to take a bowl once again. “Some are harder fought than others, but those are often the brightest.” She paused, thoughtfully, before chuckling softly as she took another spoonful and lifted it up. “Or darkest, in this case. Now, if you’d be so kind as to lower yourself so that I might continue.”  
  
With a nod, Harkas released her hold on the archon, reclining until she was resting on one arm.  
“This better?” the warrior spoke with a hint of smugness as Y’shtola slide herself back several fulms.  
“Seeing that I can now reach without the need to crane my neck, I would surmise so.” There was a trace of satisfaction in her voice as she brought the stew to Harkas’ lips, only for it to promptly disappear.  
“My height’s never been such a problem before. Guess I forgot how big the gap is” The warrior spoke, muffled by food, only to be tapped on the nose by a spoon.  
“Not with your mouth full.” The archon scolded, albeit playfully. Smirking, Harkas swallowed her stew and gave the Miqo’te a long, taunting smirk.  
“Yes, Mother.” Her words dripped a playful derision, and thankfully brought a smile to her companion, who responded much as she had hoped.  
“Again with the cheek?” The archon took on a similar tone, if not more sultry. “Mayhaps I really do need to take you across my knee. Teach you a lesson I’m sure you’d _never_ forget.” The miqo’te leant in slowly, driving in her point, only to be matched ilm for ilm by the Roegadyn.  
“Well you’re welcome to try.”  
“Far be it for me to judge what the two of you indulge in when alone.” Came a third, familiar male voice, as both scions tore apart in horrified shock, a poor attempt at hiding their closeness. “But I fear a mere spanking will do little to someone who regularly bears the brunt of powers that could easily level the very tower we stand on.” Both ladies quickly spun to their feet, Harkas nimbly grabbing her axe and bringing it to bare at the intruder, only to be greeted by their white garbed and haired comrade, who wore an annoyingly smug look. “But then you are a master of the arcane. Mayhaps you have something in your repertoire for such an occasion.”  
  
“Thancred.” Y’shtola sighed, partially covering her face with her fingers. “How long have you been lurking there?” The rogue gave a non-committal shrug as he took a step forward.  
“Long enough to hear more than any present would like, myself included. With how distracted you both were, it was decidedly simple, really.” Harkas slowly lowered her weapon, but followed the man as he moved.  
“And here I had hoped you didn’t make a habit of snooping on your friends.” The annoyance in the warriors voice was palpable as she leant her axe back up against a railing.  
“You wound me!” Thancred feigned a look of pain, accompanied with an overly-dramatic gesture. “You think me the kind of vagabond to eavesdrop on my friends romantic retreat for my own pleasures?”  
“Precisely.” Harkas chimed in before he could continue, causing him to give a defeated sigh.  
“Well I didn’t. In fact, the others will be here shortly and I thought to arrive ahead and ensure you wouldn’t be caught in a _more_ compromising position. I rather not have Rynes ears sullied by your bedroom talk, after all.” Both women narrowed their eyes at him.  
“So you believe yourself a benevolent assistant, then?” The miqo’te chided.  
“You’d rather everyone had walked into that conversation of yours?” came the hyurs taunting response, forcing both to step down, begrudgingly.  
  
“So, you knew about us as well?” Harkas asked, after a moment of silence.  
“It’s almost as if my role within the Scions was intelligence and reconnaissance.” Came Thancreds’ sarcasm-steeped response. “Yes, I knew. Overheard some of the members of the Ala Mhigan resistance talking about it one night. Something about being sworn to secrecy about it.”  
“And our other comrades?” The archon queried.  
“Alisaie, for sure, and I’d be surprised if it had eluded Uriangers’ notice. Alphinaud however, remains as naïve as always and Ryne doesn’t seem to know, either.” Harkas and Y’shtola shared a disappointed glance before the sound of footsteps upon the tower stairs disturbed the conversation. Quickly, both Warrior and Archon gathered the few loose items in a cover-up that proved entertaining to the rogue, and less than a minute later, the tower was substantially more crowded.  
  
“So _this_ is where you’ve been hiding.” Alphinaud spoke, his voice warm and cheery. “When none of the revellers knew the whereabouts of their guest of honour, I began to fear you’d been whisked off to _yet another_ shard.” Ryne nodded in agreement, before turning to face Y’shtola.  
“Thankfully, Glynard had watched you leaving the party with food for two, so following the trail was easy.”  
“I still remember the time when a celebration for a victory such as this came hand in hand with tales of one of the great Warriors of Light drinking even the hardiest of drunkards under the table.” Alphinaud laughed. “To find you sneaking _away_ from a party still comes as somewhat of a surprise.”  
“Come now, brother.” Alisaie chimed in, stepping in beside Harkas before she could respond. “She’s come a long way since then. I’m sure after a day such as today nobody would begrudge her some time alone, nor Y’shtola for ensuring she is looked after. After all, we’ve all neglected ourselves in favour of confronting Emet-Selch and we can’t have our ace keeling over from starvation now, can we?” her defense of the Warrior was curt and as the gathered muttered their agreements she gave Harkas a sly, knowing wink and a subtle nudge with her elbow, finding some enjoyment as the Roegadyn tried to contain her embarrassment.  
“She speaketh the truth.” Urianger spoke, drawing the attention of everyone back. “This day hath been both strenuous and treacherous in no small measure.” He paused briefly, before turning and gesturing out into the distance. “But by the grace of the twelve, we have accomplished that which many had long given up on. The light eternal hath receded, the sin eaters that once plagued Norvrandt are vanquished and despite interference of an Ascian nature, we hath averted the eighth calamity.”  
  
There was a long silence as all gathered took a moment to appreciate the night sky. The glittering stars, the gleaming moon, both things they had taken for granted in the source, save for Ryne, who stood, smiling from ear to ear. It may well have been the first full night sky she’d ever seen, Harkas thought, watching as Thancred placed a reaffirming hand on the young humes’ shoulder, momentarily drawing her attention as she gave him an exhilarated grin.  
“We mustn’t forget who made this all possible.” Alphinaud was the one to break the silence, and Harkas felt a small hand press against her hip. Looking down, she saw the young Leveilleur gazing up in admiration. “Nor the price she almost paid, and for that, you have my everlasting gratitude.” Almost immediately, Harkas felt the eyes of every scion upon her, and she struggled to find her words. Swallowing her nerves, she placed a hand on the top of the small elezens head, bringing some colour to his cheeks.  
“Not that I’d have gotten very far without you all.” She bore a soft, if uncertain smile as she spoke, glancing between each scion. “Bad as it sounds, I’m glad that the Exarch accidentally grabbed you all. I doubt I’d have managed this on my own. I probably wouldn’t even have made it into Eulmore without this artist.” She chuckled, much to Alphinaud chagrin.  
“You’d have a harder time keeping us away.” Alisaie chirped, striking a prideful pose. “But I digress. Shall we return to the festivities? No doubt there are many who would be heartened to see their hero, and I believe there are a number of tales being told of your encounters which might need a touch of…correction.”  
  
There was another murmur of agreement before the Scions meandered back down the watchtower stairs. As she lifted her axe and hung it back in its sheathe, Harkas gave one final look over Lakeland with a proud smile, before joining her companions.  
“So, did you actually have a plan if Rynes’ blessing had failed and I had turned?” the Warrior asked as she descended.  
“That we did.” Alisaie replied cheerily.  
“I believe we took a page out of your book, at that.” Thancred added.  
“One of mine?” Harkas tilted her head in confusion.  
“As thine fellow Warriors of Light hath told, when you foray into unknown territory with little knowledge of the dangers that might await thee within, thine prevailing strategy is to “Improvise”.” Uriangers voice came from a little further down but lost none of its potency. Dumbstruck, Harkas stopped dead, glancing quickly between her companions.  
“Your plan was to go in without a plan and see what happens?!” The Roegadyn was practically shouting, unable to control her volume.  
“It’s served you well in all your previous endeavours.” Alphinaud added, enjoying the chance to join his fellows in teasing the warrior.  
“That’s because we never _use_ my plan!”


	2. The night goes on

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> No more avoiding the crowds. They were waiting for their heroes.

The heart of the Crystarium was a stark contrast to the watchtower on the outskirts. No longer a faint murmur in the distance, the gathered masses roared in celebration as the Warrior of Darkness returned to them, with no small crowd rushing to circle them to express praise, thanks or to beg a boon. In the bustling chaos, it was all too easy, Harkas learned, for friends to disappear from sight. Even with her height, they still vanished off into the sea of bodies, Thancred dragged away by Ryne who had spotted one of the bakers handing out small confectionaries, Alphinaud disappearing with his sister to properly introduce her to the Chai’s, Urianger opting to retire to a quieter space alongside Moren, who was desperate to record stories of the conquests of the Warrior of Darkness and a small cadre of the Nights blessed surrounding who they knew as Master Matoya were quickly swept into the tides, the miqo’te disappearing with them.  
  
Such attention was wholly alien to the warrior. Normally, such a crowd would be clawing and pummelling at any scrap of her they could reach, and it took a conscious effort to not immediately enter a defensive stance as Tankards and various delicious looking treats were thrust towards her. Around her ankles, a small hume child did his best to punch one of her greaves, immediately regretting his decision as his hand struck metal, but such pain was seemingly shortlived, as he vanished between legs shouting to his friends about how he had managed to strike the Warrior of Darkness. After a few placative gestures to ease the masses, Harkas took one of the proffered tankards, and after ensuring she had a firm grip, thrust it into the air.  
“To the stars in the sky!” It was her best attempt at a grand toast, though she already regretted her choice in words. Thankfully, they had the intended effect, as the call echoed across the crowd, no small number of drinks lifted in toast and a considerable amount of liquid spilling forth from the overeager.

With the masses suitably satisfied, Harkas found it much easier to move through the festival. Almost everywhere she looked, she could see someone familiar. Allies made during her journey through the first. A number of pixies flittering away with a handful of ill-gotten confectionaries, the Viis that she had assisted in leaving the greatwood stood talking to Lyna, who even in this time of celebration, still stood a vigilant watch over the folk she protected. Magnus, Jeryk and Thaffe stood some distance off, surrounded by members of the Crystalline Mean, no doubt sharing knowledge about Talos. It was rare that Harkas had the chance to simply enjoy watching the people she had helped, but even small pleasures such as those were short lived as she caught something out of the corner of her eye. Something pale, glowing maybe? Up on the ledge by the Amaro launch overlooking the plaza, stood five figures, each giving off a soft light, and immediately, Harkas knew she was watching the final moments of this worlds Warriors of Light. Heroes who had finally seen salvation come to their home, and could now rest. She knew not if they could see her, but nonetheless waved them farewell, a smile spreading across her face as the familiar, axe wielding form returned the gesture. Together, the figures turned and vanished from sight, leaving the Warrior waving to nothing, much to the confusion of some of the nearby party-goers.  
  
Eventually, the hustle and bustle of adoring folk began to take it’s toll on the Warrior. She could handle hordes of bloodthirsty beasts or marching legions of soldiers, but as it turns out, she could only refuse so many trinkets and tributes before it began to grate on her nerves. Such a time was as ideal as any to make for the Wandering Stair and get herself a drink. Meandering through the Crystarium, she arrived at the foot of the steps that connected the tavern with the Musica Universalis markets. Though there was still a considerable number of people present, there was nowhere near the number that packed the plaza and the marketplace. Most contented themselves with drink and a conversation with a friend, some were drunk beyond coherency, and thankfully any who recognised her gave her only a cheery nod of appreciation. Making her way to the bar was considerably easier than getting here, small gatherings parting to make way as she strode by. Catching a glimpse of her approach, Glynard quickly finished the order he was serving, practically sliding a tankard to an elf, before turning and welcoming the Warrior with open arms.   
“And here’s the guest of honour, in the flesh!” As Harkas waved back, he slid over the countertop with a practiced ease, landing with a speed that carried him a couple of paces before throwing his arms around the other Roegadyn and lifting her awkwardly off the ground. After a brief, awkward struggle as Harkas’ legs dangled helplessly, he placed her back down, rubbing the back of his head in embarrassment. “Sorry ‘bout that. Couldn’t help meself, not after all you’ve done for us.” He gestured back at an empty stool by the bar, inviting the Warrior to join him as he returned to his post. Harkas followed him as far as the stool, seating herself as the barkeep paced round to the gap, rather than repeating his earlier stunt.  
  
“So, your mystel friend get you your food alright?” He asked, turning to rummage through a rack of bottles behind him.  
“Yeah, she did.” Harkas nodded. “That was some good stuff, too. Some sort of secret recipe?”  
“You could say that, aye.” Glynard chuckled, pulling a bottle out of the rack to examine the label, before placing it back. “Somethin’ me pa used to make. See, the secret is in the-”  
“Woah, hold on there.” Harkas interrupted, lifting a hand in a signal to stop. “Something like that has to stay in the family.” The barkeep paused, glancing over his shoulder at the warrior, confused. “Besides, gotta have something to keep me coming back, haven’t you?” she finished, giving him a wink, bringing the smile back to his face.  
“Well when you put it like that, I can’t argue, can I?” Drawing another bottle out and nodding. “How about I give you this instead then?” He grinned, placing a purple tinted bottle on the counter. “A little somethin’ I’ve been saving.” As she examined the label, all she could make out was that it was some sort of wine. “Voeburtan Red. Passed from me grandpa to me pa. Can’t think of a better reason to finally open this thing.” Drawing two wine glasses from under the counter, he placed them on the surface before producing a corkscrew from his belt.   
“Guess I can’t argue either, can I?” the warrior giggled. “I suppose I can allow myself a little more to drink.” As Glynard cocked an eyebrow, the Warrior gave a slight shrug. “Used to drink _far_ too much, been cutting back for…the better part of a year now? I think.”  
“Ah, I see. Well, I think you’ve earned a little respite. And if it helps, I can always cut you off if you start goin’ overboard. Deal?” Glynard was pleasingly understanding as he placed the corkscrew down, awaiting her answer.  
“Deal.” The Warrior laughed, bringing a big grin to the barkeeps face. Sweeping up the corkscrew, he gave it a practiced flourish before driving it into the cork and pulling it out in one fluid motion, quickly and smoothly pouring the scarlet liquid into the glasses. As he placed the bottle down, there was another flourish as the corkscrew disappeared and he scooped the glass up, Harkas taking her glass with a touch more care. Even through the commotion, the clink of glasses was audible as the two Galdjent toasted, each taking a testing sip.  
  
Bringing his glass down, Glynard broke into a fairly detailed and complex description of the wines’ qualities, Harkas, nowhere near the connoisseur as the Crystariums barkeep, could only comment on how it was indeed nicer than the cheap brands she was used to. As Glynard went on about the finer points, to which Harkas only half paid attention, another individual, a well built, slightly balding hume, approached, sliding beside the warrior, who paid him little notice.  
“Don’t suppose I could get you to save me another glass, could I? I’ve a friend who’d appreciate this more than I do, and I owe them somewhat of an apology.”  
“For you? Aye, I don’t see why not.” The Galdjent nodded, producing a fresh cork out of seemingly nowhere and plugging the neck of the now half-empty bottle.  
  
“So Glynard. Any chance o’ gettin’ any of this “magnificent” drink o’ yours meself?” The hume spoke with a rough voice, drawing Harkas’ attention and allowing her to notice his garb. It was a surprisingly well maintained guardsman uniform, indicating this man was a recently off duty Crystarium guard.  
“ ‘Fraid it’s not mine to give.” The Barkeep shook his head, sliding the now sealed bottle across to the warrior who gave a vague expression of surprise before nodding in appreciation. In response, the hume turned to the warrior with an expectant look.  
“Doubt it. Only enough in here for a couple drinks, and I already plan on sharing it with someone.” Harkas shrugged half apologetically at the man, who returned the gesture.  
“Don’t suppose you’d be willin’ to wager fer it, then?” The question was meant as a jest, but the warrior cocked an eyebrow.  
“Perhaps. What were you thinking?” Her willingness caught the guardsmen off guard briefly, before he put his hand to his chin in thought.   
“ ‘old ‘ere. I’ll be back in a few.” He grunted, before spinning on his heel and disappearing back towards the marketplace. Glynard glanced at the Warrior curiously as she took another sip.  
“You really going to give it to him?”  
“If he can beat me in something, then he deserves it.”  
“If ye say so.” Glynard raised both arms, conceding.  
  
Several minutes later, the hume returned, a bow slung over his shoulder, a thin veneer of sweat coating his brow. Taking a moment to wipe it away, he glanced back before striding towards the two Galdjent.  
“I don’t gotta explain meself, do I?” He said with a smug look on his face, gesturing back towards the wall of the pendants, where a relatively rudimentary straw target had been hung, several fulms in diameter and reaching a hundred fulms distant. “Best shot wins.” Harkas gave him a smirk, before sliding the bottle back to Glynard and rising to her feet.  
“Alright then. Challenger shoots first.” She responded, gesturing to the target. The other patrons had wisely cleared a path, having realised what was about to come, and were starting to form a wall of bodies eager to spectate.  
“Suit yerself”, the hume grunted, drawing the bow and knocking an arrow. Taking a steadying breath, he drew the string back, taking a careful aim before loosing, sending the arrow soaring, hitting the target with a soft thud. A brief round of applause came from the crowd as he laughed, turning back to the Warrior. “I’ve seen ye fight, out in Lakeland. I ain’t no match there, I’ll give ye that. But ye also ain’t a bowman, an’ that axe o’ yours won’t serve you ‘ere.” He laughed again, full of confidence as he offered his bow.  
“Got me there.” Harkas replied nonchalantly. “I think I’ve only ever held a bow once or twice. That’s why I carry these.” She added, pushing the bow back and unlatching one of two small hatchets from her belt giving it a couple of testing flips. The crowd murmured amongst themselves as the hume chuckled, watching Harkas adjust her footing.  
“Ye may as well just ‘and over that bottle now. Even Captain Lyna can’t throw that far with any-” he was cut off as the Warrior twisted her torso, bringing her arm back before whipping it forward enough force to double her over forward, extending a leg back to balance herself. What was in reality a couple of seconds of brutal silence felt like a minute to the Hume, as there was an unmistakable thump as strands of straw were scattered in the distance. The crowd erupted into cheers as Harkas shrugged, turning back to the slack-jawed hume.  
“Good job I can.” She gave him a wink, before returning to her seat. “I am going to need that back sometime though.”. As the crowd drew in around her, varying patrons packing in to congratulate and praise her, she briefly regretted her choice, doing her best to politely fend off unwanted contact. It wasn’t until a young looking Mystel pushed his way to the front and nervously asked to challenge her that she fully acknowledged any of them, a smile creeping onto her face.  
“So, what did you want to challenge me to?” The Warrior asked, leaning in to better hear the Mystel.  
“Do you know chess?” He sounded somewhat uncertain, but warmed as Harkas gave him a soft smile and a nod.  
“I’ve played a couple games, yes. Didn’t win them, though.”  
  
Ten minutes later, the same crowd was packed in close, all trying to get a peek at the ongoing game that unknown to them, was coming to it’s conclusion.  
“Checkmate.” The young mystel spoke, with far more confidence than he had begun with. As the crowd erupted once more, Harkas could only graciously accept her defeat, still smiling as she bowed her head. Quickly rummaging through her pack she pulled out a Dagger, held in a simple, gold adorned scabbard, turning back to present it to the now celebrating youth. It took a moment for him to notice, taken aback at the offering.  
“W-what’s this for?” he stammered.  
“You beat me fair and square. It’s only right you get some sort of prize.” The warrior replied, shifting her grip so that the hilt was pointed at him. Still surprised, he gingerly lifted a hand, brushing his fingers against the pommel before taking a firm grip on the handle. As Harkas slid her hands out from underneath it, the dagger briefly bobbed as the Mystel adjusted to it’s weight. Sized for a Roegadyn rather than someone of his stature, it looked more akin to a gladius in his hand as he grabbed the sheath, pulling it out partway to reveal the gleaming steel. “Might not be the grandest of weapons, but it can still give a mean bite. Always good for a bit of personal defence.” She did her best to sound reassuring as he gazed at the blade in his hands, before he quickly shifted to look up at her, beaming as he slid the sheath back on and bowing, sputtering multiple thanks at her, and as he began to leave, several others moved into the space at the center of the crowd, making their own challenges to the Warrior of Darkness.  
  
A bell later and the now bigger crowd let out another roar, drinks raised in celebration as another challenge ended. No matter what the event was, they enjoyed watching the Warrior of Darkness engaging with folk like themselves in a myriad of trials. A game of riddles won by one of the alchemists of the Spagyrics. One of the librarians of the Cabinet of Curiosities began a storytelling contest, reciting a tale of the Knights of Voeburt and their conquest over a foul creature of darkness, only to be countered with a tale of two lovers, their vow broken by treachery leading to a thousand years of war between Dragons and Elves, and of the sacrifice brought about to end it. One of the Hortoriums botanists brought a game of chance, Each side being given five vials filled with seemingly identical liquids, the exception being one extremely foul tasting, which, to the amusement of all, ended with a draw, both participants retching and quickly grabbing their drinks to wash away the taste. Many other smaller, simpler challenges from those who simply wished to exemplar niche skills or who sought to interact with the hero of the lands. The prizes were never grand or extravagant, some as simple as a handful of gold or the promise of homecooking, others providing trinkets, accessories or favourite tomes, but they all put a smile on Harkas’ face. It actually made her feel at home within the crystarium, rather than an adventurer who’d chosen to settle there, and while her pack was also somewhat lighter as a result, she happily parted with her possessions as they brought their new owners another reason to be happy.  
  
And the night was still young. Maybe. She had no real way of telling from where she sat, but the festivities were still in full swing.


	3. A risky gamble

It had been some time since Harkas had last drank like this and though it was nowhere near the amounts she used to consume, she was still beginning to feel its effects. The rewards from little challenges she had been taking from the celebrating citizens had shifted from trinkets and other interesting items to a simple drink and being the Warrior of Darkness, she often found herself more than a match for any physical competitions. Surprisingly, she was even managing hold her own in the mental ones, despite her simple upbringing. Apparently the wisdom of the Scions had been rubbing off on her all this time, something which caught even her off guard. While she couldn’t explain the interactions between merging currents of aether, she’d experienced enough to know what the end result would be.  
  
What she knew for certain was that she’d have to pace herself now that she had a small collection of drinks awaiting her and she was already starting to feel light headed. Thankfully, the crowds had begun to thin as the night wore on. Some retiring for the night, some moving on to other areas of the party. Truthfully, Harkas was beginning to feel weary as well, the events of the day catching up to her. From waking after falling unconscious for some considerable time, to exploring the tempests and Amaurot while fearing the corruption of the light taking hold, to Hades and the unexpected swim back to Kholusia’s shore. It had been a long, strenuous and blessedly victorious day. In fact, this may have been the first real chance any of the Scions had had to simply relax since they were dragged to the first. There was a brief hit of disappointment as she thought of her companions, her fellow Warriors of Light she had left behind in the source. It was the first time since joining the Scions of the Seventh Dawn that they weren’t around to share in the cheer and the sensation felt oddly alien, but as quick as it had hit her, it was gone as another tankard was slid into the line awaiting her as Glynard gave her a nod, still grinning from ear to ear. These folk may not have been her longtime companions, but they had accepted her as one of their own, and had just as much reason to celebrate.  
  
“I pray you’re not reverting to your old ways.” Through the murmur of the remaining crowd, Harkas heard a welcome voice cutting clear through the ambience, spinning on her stool toward the source. Whether the gaggle of people had parted purposefully at her words, or if it was merely coincidence, Y’shtola strode through the Wandering Stair with her usual grace, a small congregation of the Nights Blessed trailing behind her in various degrees of sobriety. “I’ve no desire to drag you back to your quarters and nor, do I imagine, do our companions.” If the cheery tone of her voice didn’t give her away, the smile that crept into the corner of her lips just might have, sidling up to the Warrior and planting herself on the stool beside her and inclining her head towards the collection of. Smirking, Harkas took a hearty swig from one of the tankards, returning it to the counter with exaggerated force.  
“And if I am?” Harkas replied, gesturing out towards the Crystarium with a broad sweep of her arm. “Am I not allowed a night of indulgence after my triumph? Am I not allowed to try and wash away memories of grotesque monsters that haunt my dreams?” Keeping a straight face was proving difficult as her arm swung back, pointing at the Archon, who sat unflinching. “Try and stop me, by all means. Not that you could, mind you.” She finished, lifting the tankard back to her lips, using it to hide a smug look rather than drink, but she did her best to pretend. The Archons smile only grew, clearly not fooled by the Warriors act, but before she could retort one of the Nights Blessed, an elf, stepped forward, looking a little more unsteady than the others.  
“You might be the Warrior of Darkness, but that doesn’t mean you can talk to her like that!” He snapped, the nearby folk falling quiet as he threw an arm between the two. “And weren’t you meant to be friends? How can you just refuse her when she’s trying to help?!” There was a brief silence as Archon and Warrior sat stunned, until Harkas was unable to maintain the façade any longer, bursting into laughter as Y’shtola shook her head, an amused look upon her face.   
“I guess you win.” The Roegadyn spoke, peering around the elf arm at the Miqo’te, calming herself down. “Didn’t think I’d actually fool anyone though.” Taking one of the several drinks, she pushed the handle into the elfs outstretched hand, who stared at her dumbfounded. As he accepted the drink, he gave an embarrassed, but appreciative nod before slinking back to re-join his fellows. Turning back to Y’shtola, Harkas took another sip. “Take one if you want. I don’t think I’m going to drink much more after this one.”  
“Then why procure them?” The archon asked as she leant forward, taking one of the wine glasses and lifting it to her face, giving it a sampling sniff.  
“People just started giving me them when I won, is all.” The warrior shrugged.  
“Ah yes. I heard rumour that you had been accepting any and all who would challenge you.”  
“Don’t tell me you’re here to challenge me too.” The was a brief look of worry on the warriors face as she tried to examine the Miqo’te. “You already know what I can and can’t do. I don’t think I’d ever be able to defeat you if it was you that challenged me. Maybe if I chose the competition, sure, but even then…” She trailed off, presumably trying to devise some challenge which she could overcome the archon.  
“Worry not.” The achon said with a chuckle. “T’was not my intention to challenge you, though the rumours were what lead me here. It would appear, however, that I am too late.” As she took another drink, Harkas shrugged with her free arm.  
“You never know.” She spoke as she lowered her tankard “Might still be a couple of brave souls willing to give it a shot, you never know.” There was a brief silence as both Scions glanced at the remaining patrons, followed by the Nights Blessed that had trailed Y’shtola. Each of her retinue either took a step back or raised their hands in an early surrender, to the disappointment of both, before an unfamiliar voice was heard.  
“And you’d be right, oh _mighty_ Warrior of Darkness.”  
  
Those within earshot turned to the source, as a muscular, coeurl patterned Hrothgar pushed past a small gathering several feet away.   
“Since none o’ these cowardly excuses will take you on, guess that just leaves me, eh?” Directing a dismissive gesture towards the Archons retinue, he placed himself between them and the Scions with a throaty chuckle.   
“You’re one to talk.” Harkas grunted as she sized him up. He held himself with no small amount of confidence, with musculature built from years of physical labor. “Dozens of people have already given it a shot, and you show up now that everyone’s done so you can boast about your bravery?” The Hrothgar sneered, rolling his whole head.  
“Tactics. Let you tire yourself on the small fry, then make my move. If I’m gonna beat you, I’ve gotta take precautions. That’s how I win.” He sounded almost smug as he explained his plan, glancing at Y’shtola as if seeking her approval.  
“If you say so. Plenty of people have already beaten me tonight though, and they didn’t need any of these petty tricks.” The Warrior sighed.  
“Say what you will, but you won’t be acting so tough when it’s over.” He snarled, Harkas’ words having some small effect on him.  
“Sure, sure. Let’s get this over with. What’s the challenge?” With each word the Roegadyn sounded wearier, watching the Hrothgar stride to a nearby empty table and seat himself on the far side. As she lifted herself to her feet with a grunt, he placed his right elbow upon the surface, hand open. “Arm wrestling? _That’s_ your master plan?” Harkas almost sounded amused as she joined him, sitting herself opposite.  
“Aye. Part of it. See, there’s more to this than just raw strength. There’s _technique_ to it. That’s where I have you.” The smugness crept back into his voice as he sized the Warrior up.  
“Fine, let’s just get this over with.” Harkas gumbled, mirroring his arm position, only for him to shift at the last second.  
“Ah, just one second. You don’t know what I want if I win.” The corner of his mouth curled into a sly grin as Harkas cocked an eyebrow.  
“I’ve not been doing requests, you know.”  
“Well there’s a first time for everything.” Again, the Hrothgar glanced at Y’shtola who still remained seated several feet back, observing intently.  
“Fine. What’ll it be?” Every action served to annoy the Warrior slightly more. She just wanted this over and done with.  
“Well at first, I was just going to get myself something shiny. I hear you pick up all sorts of valuable things an’ me tools are starting to blunt.” He stopped briefly to chuckle as Harkas rolled her eyes. “But then I saw you with that _Beautiful_ lady over there and I knew what I wanted more.” He gestured to the archon behind her and immediately Harkas snapped to attention, her weary expression quickly shifting to one of disdain, Y’shtola herself maintaining her composure, simply furrowing her brow. “Nothing vulgar, don’t you worry. All I want is a little kiss from the little lady.”  
  
Each of the Nights Blessed recoiled, some taking steps to place themselves in front of the silent Archon as Harkas quickly pulled her arm from the table, shooting the Hrothgar a glare.   
“Not happening.” She snarled.  
“So quick to reject it. Almost as if you’re scared of losing.” It was a clear provocation, though Harkas wasn’t taking the bait.  
“I’m not going to gamble my…friends lips.” Anger was creeping into her voice now, her hands balling into tightly clenched fists.  
“Surely it’s only gambling if you think there’s a chance of losing.” The Hrothgar taunted, leaning in closer.  
“I know what you’re doing and trust me, you don’t want to keep annoying me.” She shot him another scowl and began to rise from her seat. “Now if you’re done wasting my time-”. Her words were cut off as a hand gently grasped her shoulder, guiding her back down onto the stool. She was expecting some lackey attempting to “encourage” her, but as she turned, ready to confront them, she was greeted by the slender fingers of Y’shtola, who stared sternly at the challenger.  
“You’re certain of your victory?” Her tone matched her expression, her gaze unwavering.  
“I reckon I got a good chance-” The Hrothgar began to answer, before he was cut off.  
“I was not addressing you.” Her brow furrowed slightly more before she glanced sidelong at the Roegadyn.  
“It’d honestly be more of a challenge to not break his arm doing so.” Her reply was blunt, side-eyeing the man. “But I’m still not going to-”  
“Then I accept on her behalf.” The archon turned her focus back to the Hrothgar, eyes narrowing slightly. Both sides looked surprised, but the challenger quickly returned to his smug look.  
“What’re you doing? I wasn’t-” Harkas tried to object, only to be silenced as the grip on her shoulder tightened.  
“It’s too late now, I’m afraid. If you back out now, then he’s the victor by technicality.” The Miqo’te interjected. “And you won’t allow that, will you?”  
  
Harkas stared at the Scion for a moment, before giving a defeated sigh.  
“Don’t have a choice now, do I?” she grumbled, turning back to the game at hand, readying herself for the contest. By now, the crowd that had dispersed was beginning to reform, drawn in by another competition of strength. This seemingly only served to embolden the Hrothgar, who chuckled as he matched the Warrior and as their hands met, their fingers tightened.  
“What say you count us down?” He spoke, glancing at the archon, who simply shrugged.  
“If you so insist.” Sliding her hand from the Warriors shoulder, she moved to the side of the table. “If both are prepared, I shall begin the count.” Taking a moment, she looked at both contenders, who each gave a nod. “Well then, on my mark.” She held a hand out, ready to drop it, and both sides focussed on their opponent, Harkas still glaring, The Hrothgar still with his confidant smirk. A second later, Y’shtola withdrew her hand. “Begin!”  
  
As the crowd roared, The Hrothgar quickly made his move, attempting to shift his hand upwards towards the warriors fingers, while also trying to tilt her hand backwards. Instead, he found his hand immobile, unable to manipulate the Roegadyns grip. The smugness faded from his face as he made another attempt, only to find the same result. Harkas, on the other hand, sat stony-faced.  
“See, thing is…” she spoke as though she was under very little strain. “Those techniques should give you an edge, but you still have to outdo me just to start them.” Slowly, Harkas began putting more effort in, the Hrothgars arm gradually tilting back. “Doesn’t really help that I know them too. At least I picked _something_ up during those nights in the Drowning wench.” By now, the Hrothgar was visibly exerting himself, his arm trembling as he pushed all he could, to no avail. The crowd watched eagerly, many cheering for the Warrior of Darkness as she crept, deliberately slowly towards victory, until she was seemingly done toying with him. With a thud, the match was over. Another roar erupted from the audience as the Hrothgar sat at an awkward angle, his arm pinned by the Warrior who still stared at him coldly.  
“Alright, you’ve won.” The confidence was stripped from his voice and he watched the Roegadyn with nervous eyes. “You can let me go now.” He was almost pleading at this point, but still he was trapped.  
“Apologise.” Harkas growled.  
“I-I’m sorry.” He stammered a response, not breaking eye contact. The crowd had quietened somewhat as those closest watched events unfold.  
“Not me.” She snapped, gesturing towards the Archon with her head. It took a moment for the Hrothgar to shift his gaze, but he tore himself from the Warrior, turning to the Sorceress.  
“I-I’m sorry ma’am. I didn’t mean any offense, p-please forgive me.” Y’shtola eyed him warily before placing a hand on Harkas’ shoulder. In response, the Warrior released her grip and the Hrothgar quickly withdrew his hand, rubbing his forearm.  
“Mayhaps now you’ll refrain from disrespecting others.” She spoke curtly as he staggered to his feet, watching him slink back into the crowds.  
“Y-yes ma’am. I will.” He sputtered a response before vanishing into the throngs of people who thankfully parted to allow him past, closing the gap behind him.  
  
With the contest now over, Harkas let out a weary sigh.  
“You got me to do that just to teach him a lesson?” She gave Y’shtola a tired smile, leaning back in on her seat.  
“Amongst other reasons, aye.” The archon returned the smile, her face warming considerably.  
“Ever the vigilant mentor, hm?” Harkas chuckled. “So what were these “other” reasons?”. The corner of Y’shtolas’ smile curled more as she closed the distance between them.   
“Well, there was promise of a prize to the victor, was there not?” Her voice took on a more sultry tone as she waited for Harkas’ response. Whether it was exhaustion or her oblivious nature, Harkas spent a moment eyeing the Sorceress curiously, before colour rushed to her cheeks.  
“Here?” Harkas spoke quietly. “Y’sh-” she started another point before quickly glancing at the nights blessed a few paces away. “Master Matoya, there’s…a lot of people here. You’re alright with them knowing?” There was a chuckle from the Archon as she drew back somewhat.  
“There’s no need to call me that now. All present are privy to the truth of my identity.” She gestured to her followers who talked amongst themselves. “There’s no need to keep secrets tonight, and I believe we’ve earned some indulgences, if you’ll forgive my being so forward.” There was a pause as Harkas pondered her words, before her arm curled around the Miqo’tes’ waist, pulling her in close.  
“Only if you’ll forgive mine.”  
“I’m sure I can find a way.” Y’shtola whispered, wrapping her arms around the Warriors neck, feeling Harkas’ other hand press against the back of her head. As the pair embraced, lost in the throes of passion, one final cheer came from the crowd. No doubt word would spread to the other scions, but right now, Harkas couldn’t care less.

**Author's Note:**

> This is already turning out longer than I expected it to. Maybe I'll finish it, maybe I'll find another cutoff point instead. Only time will tell.


End file.
